


suffer the little children to come unto me

by rain_sleet_snow



Series: the pageant of Ajax [2]
Category: HEYER Georgette - Works, The Unknown Ajax - Georgette Heyer
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M, Kid Fic, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 08:50:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17825639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_sleet_snow/pseuds/rain_sleet_snow
Summary: Anthea had been in the nursery, reading Small Hugo a story, and as a result the first she knew of the accident was the original Hugo bursting into the nursery, affronting Nurse, alarming the maids, seizing the blankets from their son Richmond's bed, and hurtling back out again."Heavens," Anthea said, instead of "Damn."***Risking your neck runs in the Darracott blood.





	suffer the little children to come unto me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DesertVixen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertVixen/gifts).



Anthea had been in the nursery, reading Small Hugo a story, and as a result the first she knew of the accident was the original Hugo bursting into the nursery, affronting Nurse, alarming the maids, seizing the blankets from their son Richmond's bed, and hurtling back out again.

 

"Heavens," Anthea said, instead of "Damn."

 

"Mama?" Small Hugo said, struggling up out of the tender arms of sleep. Like his older brother, he had his father's guileless blue eyes, but the boys hadn't yet developed the deceptive sharpness of Hugo's expressions.

 

"I'm sure it's nothing, darling," Anthea said, heart beating far too fast. "Your father often does ridiculous things. Let us hope your Uncle Vincent will stop him making a larger mess than strictly necessary."

 

"Unkoo Vince," murmured her cherub as he settled back into her lap. Anthea cherished a private hope that Vincent would one day be privileged to hear Small Hugo call him by that appellation. He was good with the children, but they were a constant assault on his dignity.

 

 

A few minutes later, she rose from her seat and tiptoed out, leaving the nurses to deal with her youngest. She harboured grave suspicions regarding the older two, who should have been in some time ago with their nurse Molly after a trip to the seaside. They had been expected back at dark, and it was now seven o'clock, full winter's night fallen over the Sussex border, with a desultory rain accompanying it. Dinner had undoubtedly been put back or someone would have called to her, which argued for a fairly serious occurrence. Equally, however, no-one had called to her to care for Richmond and Elvira, which suggested that Hugo and Vincent did not think whatever had happened was all that serious.

 

Anthea noticed the doctor's hat and coat in the hall, and knew enough of a qualm that her fists clenched in her skirts and she had to pause on the stairs for a moment. The fact that these articles had not been tidied away told her that the household was in disorder. Hugo and Vincent might not have thought whatever had happened was serious, but they might equally have been mistaken.

 

If so, she would wring both of their wretched necks, one after the other, and finish out her days a vindictive widow.

 

"Anthea," said a drawling voice from the entrance to the small drawing room, "we really must retire that damnable name."

 

" _What_ ," Anthea said, at the same moment as a gleeful girl said "Uncle Vincent, you said _damn_."

 

Anthea clutched the banister instead of allowing herself to sink onto the stairs. At least one of her children was obviously fine.

 

"I did, whelp," Vincent Darracott said, with ill-disguised affection. "Now, for once in your entire life, be a good girl, sit quietly, and drink your posset while I talk to your mother."

 

He closed the door behind him and came out into the hall, but not before Anthea glimpsed her middle child - bolt upright on a sopha, wrapped in a blanket, grey eyes sparkling and black hair... hanging in damp and messy tendrils. What on earth had Elvira done with Molly, who would never have allowed one of her charges to go about looking like such a shag-rag?

 

"Elvira is not hurt and Richmond has merely broken his wrist," Vincent said. "The good doctor is with him and Hugo now, but I flatter myself I know a simple break when I see one."

 

Anthea sat down rather heavily on a hall chair which had chiefly been designed for decorative purposes, and which creaked under her weight.

 

"My point," Vincent continued, leaning against a table and helping himself to a pinch of snuff, "is that the name is clearly cursed. Between our respected grandsire, long may he continue to bedevil us, your wretched brother, and your equally wretched son, we will all be grey-haired before our time."

 

"As if you weren't on the shade side of forty," Anthea said automatically, and rubbed her fingers helplessly over her temples. "Are you going to tell me what happened, or am I going to sit here, suffering suspense?"

 

"My dear Anthea, I would have thought it would be obvious. Richmond fell off a cliff and Elvira climbed after him."

 

Anthea refrained, with considerable effort, from shouting. "Please elaborate."

 

"Richmond had accepted a challenge to reach a specific bird's nest. He is, of course, too tall and heavy for the perch in question, but that appears not to have occurred to him. Molly was distracted, Richmond climbed down the cliff, lost his footing, and fell onto a lower shelf."

 

"At which point Elvira ran for help?" Anthea said, without much hope.

 

"At which point," Vincent corrected her, with obvious pride, "Elvira browbeat the older boys into lending her a rope and tying sailors' knots to lower her, organised them into a detail for this purpose, climbed down herself, and she and Richmond climbed back up the cliff together, Elvira compensating for Richmond's broken wrist."

 

Anthea put her face into her hands and breathed deeply, in an attempt to prevent herself becoming hysterical.

 

"I think she did well," Vincent said judiciously. "She reminds me of you."

 

"Vincent," Anthea said, feeling as if she were losing her tenuous grip on her sanity, "today, two-thirds of my children climbed off a cliff. I do not feel equal to your sense of humour at the moment."

 

Vincent did not apologise, but he did lay his hand on her shoulder and squeeze tightly. Anthea grasped his wrist, closed her eyes, and held on.

 

"You will admit, at least," she said, without opening her eyes, "even when we were children, I never climbed off a cliff."

 

"No. Nor did you ever while away the hours by baffling the Excisemen, or overturn the mail-coach racing from London to Newmarket, or marry a weaver's lass from Yorkshire."

 

"My grandfather ought to rejoice at having so unexceptionable a descendant."

 

There was a creaking noise from the drawing-room door.

 

"I finished my posset," Miss Darracott said, hopefully.

 

"Yes," Vincent said. "And I notice you forgot to sit quietly."

 

 

When Anthea reached the study, Master Richmond Darracott was looking rather more peaked than his lively sister. The doctor was just packing up; the arm had been set, and the relaxed set of the doctor's and the patient's father's shoulders suggested the case was not very serious. Richmond had been dried off and re-dressed in clean nightclothes, looking small and sleepy for a boy of ten. Anthea wondered how on earth she was supposed to send him away to school far too soon, and felt a pang of sympathy with her mother. The elder Elvira Darracott would probably have had hysterics at the evening's events - a course of action that tempted Anthea sorely.

 

"All's well, Anthea," Hugo said, catching her arm lightly. "He'll sleep now. And it'll do him no ill to learn not to climb off cliffs just because the older boys tell him he should."

 

"Very true," Anthea said, leaning into his solid warmth. "Can I suggest you try to explain that to Elvira?"

 

Hugo grinned, and kissed the top of her head. Anthea rested her face against his shoulder for a moment, then went over to her son.

 

"My brave boy," she said quietly, kneeling beside him, and brushing his hair off his forehead. "Can't you leave the birds alone?"

 

Richmond gave her a dazed smile and murmured something Anthea couldn't catch, turning his head against her hand exactly as Small Hugo would have done. Anthea's heart melted, and she pressed a kiss to his cheek. He fell asleep rapidly and completely in the next few minutes, and Hugo came over and picked him up. Anthea got to her feet and looked about her, surprised to realise that the doctor had left, and that Vincent had brought a bundled-up Elvira into the room, unusually calm and quiet in his arms. She must be very tired from her exertions.

 

"Uncle Vincent," Elvira said suddenly.

 

"What, Elvira?"

 

"We must wait until Richmond is better enough to blow the eggs. Mustn't we?"

 

"Yes," Vincent said.

 

"Eggs?" Anthea said, feeling as if she could hardly have been more surprised if Princess Charlotte had ridden up to the Dower House on a unicorn and demanded entrance. "What eggs?"

 

"The ones in the nest," Elvira said, very reasonably. "Richmond and I had to bring them up, otherwise it would all be for nothing. Uncle Vincent said he would show us how to blow them clean."

 

Anthea looked wordlessly at Hugo, who shrugged - a little more cautiously than usual, careful not to disturb Richmond.

 

"If we may, Mama?"" Elvira said, voice now wavering.

 

"Of course you may," Anthea said, coming over to kiss her forehead and smooth her tangled hair. "You dreadful child. I am very, very proud of you for helping Richmond climb back up." She took a deep breath. "In future, my brave darling, please make your brother's safety the priority. Not birds' eggs."

 

"Yes, Mama," Elvira said obediently. Anthea looked forward to finding out which horrible direction this well-meaning instruction would shortly be twisted in.

 

"Goodnight, Elvira." She pointed at Hugo and Vincent. "You, go and put the children to bed. I will go and tell Cook to serve whatever's left of dinner in a quarter of an hour."

 

 

They dined simply, and retired to the library with port rather than tea. Anthea was conscious that it was not a ladylike thing to drink, but she was not her Aunt Aurelia, and felt the need to artificially stiffen her spine.

 

"They are not hurt," Hugo said. Anthea knew he was trying to reassure her, but she was strongly tempted to slap him.

 

"Only incorrigible," Vincent said, with affection. "My mother thinks they are excellent little rascals. Claud's daughters lack pluck - they can't string two words together in front of her."

 

"And my children lack propriety," Anthea said. She pinched her nose. "Good God. Either of them could have died."

 

"But they did not," Vincent pointed out.

 

Anthea was on the verge of snapping at him when Hugo pulled her onto his lap, and kissed the nape of her neck.

 

"Lass, you should have seen our Vincent come riding up the drive carrying Richmond - storm-faced and barking orders like the old lord himself... I thought Richmond must be like to die." He cleared his throat hard. "I should have known. Darracotts are made of tougher stuff than that."

 

"He'd only fainted," Vincent muttered, now looking mortally embarrassed and not the slightest bit storm-like. "Molly, the stupid wench, ran screaming down into the village when she found out Richmond had gone over the cliff. I'd stopped to check on your brother's _Seamew_ , so they brought her to me. Old Jem Hordle and I ran up to the cliffside. I fully expected to find Elvira weeping over the edge, but no." He paused, and took a long draught of his port. His expression had completely changed, to something remote and hard, as if he had been very much frightened. "By the time I got there, the pair of them were clawing their way back onto solid ground. With the bloody bird's nest. And then Elvira stood up, laughing, and Richmond... fell over."

 

He blinked those heavy eyelids just once, hard, and any irritation Anthea had felt with him or Hugo evaporated.

 

"It must have been hell," she said. "For both of you. But you could have mentioned to me earlier that there was nothing seriously wrong."

 

"Next time," Hugo said, placatingly.

 

Anthea shuddered. "Good God, I hope there won't _be_ a next time."

 

"A forlorn hope," Vincent said ironically.

 

Anthea extended an imperious hand to him, and he came over, and sat down beside her. She combed her fingers through his hair; Hugo laid a hand on the nape of his neck, and Vincent tilted his head back into the touch and closed his eyes.

 

Anthea stared into the fire.

 

"My mother asked," Vincent said, without opening his eyes, "if you would bring the children to see her, next time you come to Town."

 

Anthea twitched. Hugo didn't even tense; relaxed and good-humoured as ever, but also, Anthea knew, on guard.

 

"Do you think she knows about Elvira?" Hugo said.

 

"I never bet against my mother, but short of actual omniscience, she can't know. We aren't sure, after all."

 

Elvira was the perfect little Darracott, with her mother's eyes and her great-grandfather's nose. The fact that a number of her features were shared with Vincent was likely only coincidence: Anthea had married her cousin, and Hugo's Darracott father had had those features too. Still, there remained a possibility. Elvira looked less like Hugo than either of the boys.

 

"It's none so bad," Hugo said easily. "Even if Lady Aurelia does guess, she won't say."

 

"True," Anthea said. Vincent nodded.

 

There was a long, companionable silence. The fire crackled.

 

"Hugo," Vincent said. "Just so that you're aware. I caught the footmen telling Richmond stories of the secret tunnel on Darracott land to distract him."

 

Anthea sat bolt upright, nearly decapitating her husband. " _No_."

 

"Oh yes," Hugo said, laughter bubbling under in his voice. "I always knew we'd made more of a dust than we realised. We'd best see to it that the tunnel is well blocked, Vincent, before the children use it to run away to sea. Or Anthea will skin us both."

 


End file.
